Circle Complete: Return
by Echo Dancer
Summary: A short-story alternate ending to Warren and Ztar's saga. Painful separation drives Warren back to Ztar. Angst, needful longings, and plenty of lust. Advisory: Slash. Rated Mature for non-graphic sex.


WARNING: Slash situation. If that's not your thing, hit the back button now. Also, I don't own the character Warren Worthington – he belongs solely and completely to Marvel Comics sadly. I simply enjoy borrowing him for my own entertainment…no money will ever be made from this story. Sigh.

_To Readers who Dare to Continue: This short story is an __**alternative ending**__ to my novel "Circle Complete" featuring Warren Worthington III / Archangel and my OC, Emperor Ztar of the interstellar Turzent Empire. Replace original Chapters 19 and 20 of that story with this and you have a very different outcome to Warren and Ztar's three-book saga. _

_If you haven't read the novels, you may still enjoy this little walk down a fanciful lane – it's full of soul-twisting angst, lusty longings, and 'steamy windows.' _

_One of my readers prompted this little exercise. Sleepy Eyes25 privately communicated with me quite a bit about the trilogy. It was Sleepy Eyes' impassioned belief that Warren and Ztar should remain a couple which prompted me to write a different outcome to their tale. _

_And so, I present to you a change of ending to Circle Complete, dedicated to Sleepy Eyes25 and all other readers who wished that Warren and Ztar had lived happily ever after. Enjoy!_

**Circle Complete – Chapter 19, Alternate Ending **

**Title: Return**

**(Replaces original C19 and C20)**

He told himself that it was good he was leaving. He told himself he was glad to be going home. He told himself it was a relief to be finally and truly free. He'd even convinced himself he didn't love the Turzent in "that" way. He'd also proclaimed there'd be few tears. Warren had told himself many things, but they all turned out to be half-truths.

'Free at last,' he proclaimed, but his heart wasn't in it.

As he laid alone in bed in his chambers on the military star cruiser Noitlim, the darkness felt cold and the bed too big for only one body. Day one had been the easiest, his emotional exhaustion from the good-byes and anxiousness about heading back to Earth allowed sleep to find him rather quickly that first night. But the second night lying alone in the darkness it hit him full force. His life of six years, as horrible as it had been early on, was over. The past two years had slowly evolved from being barely tolerable to being comfortable and happy; even wonderful at times. He'd gone from loathing the Emperor to caring deeply for the man and, his breath hitched, to loving him. Not that "I'm in love with you" love, but the equally powerful "Luv ya, man" deep friendship love. At least that's what he chose to believe.

Right now, the precise classification of the feelings Warren had toward Ztar was irrelevant. The tears that came against his will didn't care which they were. He was missing the strong willed, often stubborn, sometimes thickheaded, always eloquent, surprisingly romantic, highly intelligent Turzent that could make Warren's body burn with fiery passion he would likely never experience again.

Unable to sleep, he sat up and rested against the headboard. The emotional pain surprised him in its sharpness and depth. A black hole was forming within him; it was the only accurate description. He curled up tightly against the void, drawing his wings around to form an isolating cocoon. The will to fight the tears disappeared into the dark emptiness of the room and he wept quietly. He believed Ztar would survive their separation. Now the question was would Warren?

Life before Emperor Ztar was a distance memory, almost feeling like it belonged to someone else. The Turzent had been the center of his world for six long years whether Warren had wanted him there or not. And now with a suddenness that took his breath away, Ztar was no longer part of it.

He thought back to the nights of blinding passion and the feel of Ztar's hands across his body and through his feathers. His body shuddered as the memories made him ache with need. Then a small smile formed at the recollections of the gentle way that Ztar helped him preen; how sometimes the Turzent would sneak from behind, grab him up, and carry him to the bed. Warren would laugh and Ztar would be grinning from ear to ear as he plunked down his captured prey, as he referred to Warren. Memories filled him of time in the mountains, Ztar watching from below as Warren rode the thermals high above and the nights spent cuddling by the fire, Warren tucked into the Emperor's chest drifting in man's love. He remembered their mock battles in the valley, Ztar finding some means to end the fight so he could get what he really wanted – kisses, and usually more. But Warren always found a way to get the last laugh in beating the man to the shower and Ztar loved him for it.

Ztar did love him – loved him with a fierceness beyond any lover in Warren's life. What had started as physical self-gratification regardless of the cost to Warren had evolved in deep, selfless love. A remarkable change in a remarkable man. And he was missing that man with an intensity that frightened him.

As the lonely night crept by, he almost commed the bridge and told them to turn around. 'No,' he told himself. Ztar needs someone who can love him equally. He deserves that, not the almost love you can only give him.' Warren was firm with himself. It was his turn to let go. Perhaps Ztar and Jharda would become the royal couple. Jharda could give him children, something Warren would never be able to do. Emperors need heirs.

Warren hugged his knees tighter to his chest, pressing wings closer to his body. 'Cry if you must, Worthington, but this is best for everyone.'

### - ###

His soul was being carved out with excruciating slowness, Ztar was certain of it. The Turzent shook with need as he reached out to run his hand across the place in the bed that used to be his lover's. Longing devoured him, gnawed at his flesh and his spirit. The pain was physical and sunk to the very molecules of his existence. He would not survive. He had been wrong; Archangel was wrong – he wasn't ready. He'd never be ready.

"No-o-o-o!" he cried out in such anguish that the walls of his chambers vibrated. His cry was quickly swallowed by the black aloneness and then there was only silence. The gentle sound of the human's breathing that had lulled his nights was not there. It was all a horrible nightmare and he'd awaken soon. Archangel couldn't have really left. Maybe he had to force himself to wake up. Throwing the linens aside, he got up and paced the room. Nothing changed. The bed remained devoid of the human.

His second sleepless night had been proceeded by a numb, barely recalled day. Two days since Archangel had departed Sat'rey for Earth. He knelt next to the side of the bed that had been Archangel's and buried his face in the mattress. Archangel's scent lingered. He hadn't let anyone in their chambers since the leaving. They would not take one thing from the room that the human had touched. Sobs raked his body as he pulled the human-scented linens from the bed and wrapped himself in them. This was worse than death. Ztar would prefer death.

The daytime hours were equal torture as he struggled through even the few mundane tasks he attempted. Days that used to be brightened by a smile from his companion or his heartwarming laugh were now vacant of happiness and meaning. Hour after endless hour dragged on. He paced and sat and cried and paced more. He did not leave his chambers; he hadn't showered and had scarcely eaten. Sukja kept trying to help, but Ztar wanted no one to see him in his agony – it only increased the intensity.

The third day, Ztar emerged from his isolation for a while. Sukja was there and helped him through the haze that enveloped him. Could he summon Jharda, his aide had gently asked. Ztar did not want Jharda to see him in his despair. No, he didn't want Jharda here. Not now. Not like this. The third night, Ztar collapsed into bed from exhaustion and did not stir until morning.

The fifth day arrived, and people around him dared to expect him to carry on his duties. Couldn't they see how impossible that was? Couldn't they see his anguish? Did they think this so trivial a loss that he could just continue on as if nothing had happened? His world was in shatters and little else mattered. Why should he care about the latest diplomatic bellyaching from some overly sensitive planetary representative at a perceived slight or injustice? And if the people of Djorian-Fior didn't like his new constitution, then let them do better! He couldn't care in the least. It was still his empire, forged by his hand. They'd just have to deal with it.

He ignored Jharda's comm call. Ztar couldn't face her yet.

### - ###

It was a perfect spring day in New York State. Warren stepped outside the mansion and into the warm Earth sunlight and let it bathe him. Less than an hour earlier, the shuttle dropped him off and quickly departed to return to the Noitlim in orbit far above. With that departure, a chapter in his life had ended. 'Single again,' he said with a combination of gentle relief and of loss greater than he would have thought possible.

He took a deep breath of Earth's air and felt its magnetic field flow through him. He listened to the familiar chirp of birds and the buzz of insects. It all felt so right…so good. This was home. With a leap and a downbeat, he was airborne. Climbing into the blue skies dotted with fluffy white clouds, he opened up all his senses, physical and otherwise, and let Earth sink deep into his soul, and drank in the sensations ravenously, sighing in physical and mental relief.

Soaring to a height where he could only stay a short while, he hovered to look upon as much of his homeworld as possible. He cast his incredibly acute eyes upon her lush, green land so different from Sat'rey's drier terrain. She was beautiful, this small planet in a far corner of the Milky Way galaxy. The famous line from _The Wizard of Oz_ came to mind – "There's no place like home."

Following the currents down to a warmer level, he spread his wings extra wide and concentrated on the sensation of wind over feathers. It tickled the end of his long flight feathers as the gaps between the feathers disrupted the otherwise smooth airflow. The feeling was wonderfully sensual. Remembered sensations of Ztar's fingers combing through his feathers, the gentle strokings, and lips brushing across his wings shot fiery shivers through him. He wanted Ztar – only five nights without the man's touch and his body ached in its longing. And much to Warren's dismay, it only seemed to be growing worse.

'You've got it bad, War' ol' boy! Ztar indeed ruined you for anyone else,' he thought with sadness that a year ago he would not have dreamed possible. Warren flew for a long time hoping to leave the melancholy behind.

Warren chose to slip back to Earth quietly and told no one. He returned to his own estate and not the X mansion. During the five days it took to reach his homeworld, Warren decided to ease back into life on Earth slowly and attend to his personal life and his own emotional needs first, then worry about the X-men and the rest of the world later. Staff at the estate was naturally shocked to see their employer, but they seemed genuinely happy he'd returned. He deftly avoided answering the inevitable questions about where he'd been and what he'd done, offering the same explanation as his sudden disappearance years earlier – sabbatical. Lame, but his house staff wasn't brazen enough to challenge that reply. Warren stressed the importance that his return remained undisclosed.

At first, he would do little but reacclimatize. He'd eat all the foods he'd missed, watch television, read months worth of news, surf the net, and generally get himself up to speed with world events. Day one of his return, he covertly checked his personal finances and that of the Worthington Industries and found all was well. Charles had been a good steward in his absence. In a few days, he'd call his attorneys to instruct them to void the power of attorney in one week's time. Until then, he'd let Xavier continue in that role.

The first few days went according to plan – the technical aspects. The emotional side was another story entirely. Nights, he tossed and turned. Dreams of being with Ztar nagged him when he did sleep. His body ached with unmet need.

"For the love of god!" he exclaimed one such night in exasperation as he threw the covers aside and sat up. "Shake this off, Worthington."

But the longing wouldn't be denied. It poked and prodded his consciousness and unconsciousness without permission and in defiance of his will. As he sat on the edge of the bed in the dark room, memories of the delights those skills hands, mouth, and other body parts could elicit sent waves of desire through him yet again.

"Ar-r-r-gh!" he cried out, leaning over as the almost physical pain of need hit him again. He spread his wings as recalled erotic sensation passed through them, wing base to wing tip, then trailed tauntingly down the rest of him. Warren stood and began pacing. His body wanted Ztar. It demanded Ztar.

Each lonely night, the almost withdrawal-like symptoms robbed him of sleep until in exhaustion he would finally crash and sleep until mid-morning. Five days back home and there was no sign of the problem easing. He looked like hell. A couple of mansion staff members had even inquired as to his wellbeing. Daytimes were easier as he kept his mind occupied with the re-integration plan. Even then, if he let his guard down, the pain and burning need threatened to overwhelm him.

In the wee morning hours, he contemplated. "What the hell is going on? Did Ztar do something to me – intentionally or otherwise?" he demanded in anger as he walked the floor. The black hole he first noticed on the Noitlim had grown, accentuating his discomfort. The connection he and Ztar shared was obviously much stronger than he had realized. The breaking of that bond was likely the cause of the distress, but what manner of bond results in this kind of reaction when severed? It was beyond anything he'd experienced before – even with the death of a lover.

Then his concern switched to the Emperor. 'Wonder how Ztar is holding up?' he questioned, feeling both remorse and fear for the man. Warren knew Ztar had felt their connection even more intensely than he had. 'If I'm feeling this bad, what must he be going through?' Would Ztar backslide to his former anger-filled self? Would he be okay? Would Jharda be enough for him? Questions plagued.

Perhaps he should comm Sukja to check in. 'No, better to do this cold turkey,' he told himself sternly. If he found out that Ztar was a basket case, he didn't trust himself not to go running back. 'It's for the best, no matter how you look at it, flyboy. Ztar needs you to let go.'

Another wave of burning need gripped his body and he let it drive him to his knees next to the bed. Resting his forehead on the edge of the mattress, he cried as the physical and emotional pain of separation overtook him. Ztar might as well be dead as far as his body was concerned and it missed the Turzent with ferocity. He pulled the linens down and wrapped himself tightly within them. He laid on the floor to finally drift off.

### - ###

The next many nights, Ztar often cried himself into fitful sleep filled with dreams of Archangel. The burning, aching wanting nearly consumed him.

Jharda continued to comm, begging to speak. Ztar suspected Sukja had talked with her, but he didn't care enough to ask. He would not let his second love see him so consumed with agony by the leaving of his first love. Jharda would have to understand. He'd have Sukja explain.

He 'heard' their thoughts in the days that followed. 'The Emperor is taking this a little too hard, don't you agree?' 'I would not have believed he'd be this devastated.' 'The Emperor needs to put this behind him. It's not like Archangel died.' It _was_ as if his beloved died. What is death but separation? Archangel's constant physical and empathic presence was gone – no different than death. And part of Ztar's soul left with that presence.

Time moved on as it does.

Anger came without warning and it was intense. How dare Archangel leave him like that! After everything the human had said about staying with Ztar until he no longer needed him. Lies! All of it! Cruel deceptions meant to cause him this debilitating pain. Retribution for what Ztar had done to the man five years earlier. Maybe Ztar should go to Earth and forcibly take Archangel back. That would show the man the price of abandonment. Ztar was still Emperor and ultimate ruler – the power was his to take the human again. The Accord remained in effect for a while longer. Archangel would have to comply or he'd blast his little backwater planet into oblivion. Then he'd see his mistake. Damn the human! Damn him for making Ztar love him!

For several nights, he tossed and turned in seething anger. He hated the human for what he did.

Self-directed anger came next. All he was going through was his own fault. He allowed himself to hope Archangel would be in his life forever. The human had warned him it would not be so. Sukja had cautioned him not to expect that. But did he listen? Did he prepare himself? Hold his heart in check? No. He had done none of that. All the pain and turmoil was of his own making. Self-inflicted anguish from allowing himself to love someone who could not possibly love him in return. What could have possessed him to believe they had a future? By the gods, he was a fool!

He left a message for Jharda that he loved her and would comm soon.

### - ###

Warren sequestered himself in a distant part of the manicured landscape of his Centerpoint mansion, wings spread wide to the warmth of the late spring sun as he perched on one of the many ornate garden benches. Cerulean skies beaconed like a flirtatious lover, but Warren Worthington III had other lovers on his mind.

He'd been so determined to start a new life on Earth, but all he could think about was his old life with Ztar. Thoughts and questions about the alien ruler were a force he couldn't fight. What was Ztar doing? How was he holding up? Was he in as much pain as Warren? What if the man fell into depression? Or worse? Had he found comfort in Jharda's arms? Her bed? That last stung. Maybe Ztar was just fine, lounging with Jharda while Warren's gut twisted with pain. He shook his head. No, not true. Ztar would be mourning their separation – he was as certain of that as he was of his own grief.

Warren tried to move on during the two-plus weeks since his return, but made little progress for his effort. Denial wasn't working. Distractions failed miserably. Sleep came in fits. Dreams of making love with Ztar tortured him; graphic and sadistically erotic reminders of what he'd left on behind on a distant alien planet. With little appetite, he didn't eat as he needed to and had lost weight he didn't have to lose. Dark circles marred the perfect features despite his healing factor. Haggard best summed up his appearance. Physically, Warren was a mess. Emotionally, even worse. His long-time butler had actually suggested he see someone out of touching concern.

'What _is_ it between me and Ztar? What's causing this? Something just doesn't make sense. It's not like he died. This is not _normal_!'

He could go to Charles, but Hank and he would likely want to run tests. What kind of tests are there for severed souls? That's what it felt like when he thought about it. As if his soul was entwined with Ztar's and they had been ripped apart, leaving a gaping wound that refused to heal.

"I need you a little longer," Ztar had pleaded at the shuttle pad. 'Maybe it's not Ztar who needs a little longer, War ol' boy.'

But leaving was for the best. Ztar was ready to let go. He needed find an empress who could give him heirs. Warren couldn't stay, shouldn't stay. Life on Earth needed his attention. He owned a multi-national company, was head of his own charitable foundation, had investments, a life, a future on _Earth_. None of those arguments was new.

Besides, he was straight. He sighed deeply. That proclamation really didn't hold up if he examined his and Ztar's relationship from the outside. Warren enthusiastically participated in sex with the Turzent. Yet Warren felt no sexual attraction to any other man – never had; still didn't. In fact, thinking of sex with any man other than Ztar held absolutely no appeal.

Perhaps he was bi-sexual only with Ztar. That Warren could handle. It felt right somehow. Perhaps Atichi was right – souls are without gender, and Warren's soul had become ensnared by Ztar's and they shared something special – a unique attraction.

Warren hugged himself as an intense wave of pain/need shook him to the core, as if confirming his conclusion. This time, tears sprang up and he fought hard to hold himself together. A deep and mysterious part of him _needed_ the big guy desperately. It scared the shit out of him. Unfortunately, the part that wasn't logic or reason or conscious thought was in anguish, and he hadn't any idea what to do about it.

Ztar needed Warren to stay away. The Empire's emperor needed to move beyond their limiting relationship and find one that fulfilled the role of life partner fully and fruitfully. Warren could not provide what Ztar needed long term, period. End of story.

Or was it? Ztar mentioned a solution once, but that couldn't work, could it? Warren opened his wings and spread them to the golden sun again, taking a few moments to savor the warm-like-honey feel of sunshine on skin and feathers. Then he thought back to what he'd learn of emperors and kings of old, both Turzent and Human. It was common royal practice to have both a spouse and a companion. If Ztar and Jharda really were having an affair, she obviously had tolerated Ztar's split of affections before. Would she again?

Warren shook his head. 'Think about what you're contemplating, Worthington. A love triangle? Are you _that_ desperate?' Another deep sigh in acknowledgement that the answer may very well be yes.

'Take a hard look at what it is you're actually missing, Worthington. It's the sex. Are you going to run away to a distant planet just because your libido is raging? How pathetic is that?' he chided himself with venom.

But that wasn't the whole story. Something else connected him and the alien and it went deeper than the physical. The more he considered it, the more convinced he became that the sex was amazing _because_ of that connection, whatever it was. So many other things he missed about the man. How Ztar watched over Warren, pampered him, looked to him for advice and valued his opinion; how Ztar trusted Warren with his very life. Memories of how the Turzent literally jumped off a cliff on Ymoz and entrusted Warren to catch him mid air put a broad smile on Warren's face. How he missed that hearty laugh, Ztar's scowl when they butted heads; how the fellow mutant blasted innocent rocks with his energy field when needing to blow off steam. Ztar was fiercely loyal and devoted to those close to him. He was the raging warrior who would walk through hell to protect those he loved. Yes, there were so many things Warren longed to see and feel again.

But give up a new start on Earth? A heavy sigh escaped. 'Not sure I want to let that dream go yet,' He decided to give it another week or two…if he could hold out that long. If his condition didn't improve, it would be decision time.

He rose from the bench and headed inside to see if he could force some food down.

### - ###

Acceptance crept in like a thief at some point stealing away the anger. Archangel was gone, he must face it. Dull days followed, but he carried on. Little mattered, yet he performed his duties, held his meetings, moved through the days with a grey shroud wrapped around him like a cloak. Ztar was emotionally drained and life seemed muted.

His comm message to Jharda he filled with gratitude for her patience. They would be together soon, he promised. "I love you," he ended the message and returned to his royal duties.

### - ###

Two Weeks Later…

Warren stood in the threshold of the shuttle hatch. Five long days at top speed were required to cross the vast ocean of space that separated them. He'd lost track of the number of times he nearly told the ship's captain to turn around and go back to Earth, but then a dream or needful shudder would remind why he was returning. Body and soul knew the destination and insisted on completion of the journey.

To say Sukja was shocked when Warren commed saying he wanted to return would be an understatement. In simple honesty, he explained his predicament/condition to the Emperor's aide. "I need to understand what I'm experiencing and I can't do that on Earth." Warren cautioned there were no promises as to how long he'd be on Sat'rey. He didn't want to get Ztar's hopes up about staying. That was a decision he wasn't ready to make. Many factors and ramifications were involved. At the top of the list was Jharda.

After five agonizingly long and emotionally tumultuous days, the center of an undeniable force that pulled Warren tens of light years across space stood just yards away, rigidly holding his ground at the palace entrance. Electricity raced from head to foot at the sight, causing his wings to tremble. Their eyes locked. Warren's heart threatened to break free from his chest. Every fiber of his being wanted to run straight into the man's arms and let nature take its course. He would not…not yet. Certain things must be settled first. The effort to hold himself in check caused tremors he could not quell and robbed him of a voice.

As they faced each other mutely, Warren took a moment to realize that no one else was around. None of the usual palace hubbub was visible either through the huge grand reception windows lining the sides of the palace nor the nearby patio and gardens. The place felt deserted. Sukja's handiwork, he knew.

He refocused on the Emperor standing stiffly, strong hands clenched in fists at his sides. His entire presence asked one question. Why? Warren took stock of the Turzent physically. Ztar appeared to have aged years. The deep brown eyes were dull, the face was drawn, hair unkempt, clothes disheveled, and he actually looked smaller than his seven-foot stature.

Ztar looked like hell.

Warren's heart lurched in empathy, but he resisted the urge to rush forward. He had to know certain things first. Had to know all he'd worked for would not be jeopardized. Ztar needed Jharda…a mate, an empress, heirs. Warren would not allow himself to be what stood in the way of those goals. They were why he summoned his resolve and left in the first place.

But once gone, resolve eroded away slowly by days and nights of emotional and physical agony like none Warren had experienced before. Eight days ago, the last of his determination crumbed completely and he'd commed Sukja. A hesitant aide agreed to send a ship, but serious reservations came through loud and clear in the Ozjaerian's tone.

"Ztar?" Warren finally spoke when it became apparent Ztar chose either not to or couldn't.

"M-my Archangel?" The voice was a mere whisper, but hope cried out.

Then Warren saw movement through the window inside the grand hall to one side. A glint of orange told him it was Sukja. The attendant was standing ready if his Emperor needed him. 'Good,' Warren believed. 'But how is Sukja taking this?' Suddenly, uncertainties and misgivings roared up to tell him for the hundredth time this was a horrible mistake. Bile rose in his throat as his stomach clenched and flopped. 'What the hell are you _doing_, Worthington?'

"Ztar, I-" He fumbled as he stifled a panicky urge to dive back into the shuttle. "I need to-" He forgot all he'd rehearsed in his mind during the trip. 'Shit! Pull yourself together.' He forced himself to take step forward, and that appeared to send a jolt through the Turzent, but still the man's feet remained rooted in place. Ztar searched his face with desperate intensity. Warren sighed. 'Just be honest, War ol' boy.'

Taking another hesitant step down the short ramp motivated Ztar to do likewise, just a single step toward Warren.

"I- I don't really understand why I'm here," he started, shaking his head. "I don't know what's happening to me…it's like withdrawal or I'm being ripped apart. Why is this happening? What's going on? It's not normal." He stopped, uncertain if he was making sense. "It's jumbled and confusing and…painful." Ztar took another step closer, sympathy and concern reflected in the haggard features. "I think…I think I've come back for answers."

The Turzent seemed to gather strength from somewhere deep. He visibly sucked in a breath. "I know what you're feeling." The deep voice shook.

'Do you want to do this? Think, Worthington!' His guts were twisting, heart racing, he was sweating, and wings quivered. Looking at the hope in the big, puppy-dog eyes was almost more than he could bear. Needful longing rushed over him with the suddenness and impact of a tsunami and he swayed. Warren wanted to sink into those eyes and lie beneath the warm weight of Ztar. To feel the powerful Turzent above him, in him. To join body, mind, and soul. Warren simply and unequivocally wanted Ztar.

He swallowed hard and tried to speak, but his voice failed.

The Turzent took another few steps. "You have questions, my Archangel?" Ztar sounded stronger.

"I was wondering…" Again, Warren hesitated. 'Oh, God, what am I about to do? I'm not in love with him – something else is going on. I'm straight. Ztar doesn't need me here – he needs a woman!' With a shudder, he realized the arguments, even if technically true, for some inexplicable reason were irrelevant when it came to Ztar. He was only rehashing the same old, tired protests. 'Just go with it, Warren, stop resisting – it feels right. Give it a try – you can always leave.'

He could always leave. That was reassuring. Ztar was strong now. Warren had done his job well and he could walk away any time he chose. Yet that would be terribly unfair to Ztar. You don't play with someone's heart like that.

"Archangel…what are you so afraid of?" More steps forward. Only feet separated them now.

Ztar was likely using empathic signals to get to the root of the problem, perhaps even a touch of telepathy, Warren realized in a flash. "That I'll never be able to leave you!" His mouth had opened and out rushed words that he did not give permission to do so. They stunned him.

Ztar's eyes widened and he looked equally shocked, but within seconds, the Turzent's features softened to a gentleness Warren knew so very well. The man moved closer cautiously, as if to not frighten a skittish animal. They could almost touch now. Yearning and love radiated off Ztar – it was intoxicating and Warren nearly crumbled.

"My beloved Archangel, don't be afraid. I would never hold you here – I will _help_ you leave when you must." Ztar closed the gap, took Warren in, and wrapped him tightly in supportive arms. "My Archangel…my beautiful Archangel. My heart aches that I've caused you to be so torn."

Warren was about to protest Ztar's taking on any guilt, but the Emperor spoke first.

"Let's go somewhere less public. Too many eyes are watching," his breathed into Warren's hair.

Ztar never let go of Warren as he maneuvered them into the palace. Sukja nodded acknowledgement as they entered. Walking through the enormous Grand Reception, Warren's mind drifted back to the first time he walked into the magnificent ballroom. How different things had been. Then, all he wanted to do was run away from his despised enslaver. Now he had come crawling back to him.

Warren was glad the corridors were clear. His departure had left a huge wake he knew without being told and here he was waltzing back in. People must be quite puzzled – the old palace grapevine would be singing! As they rounded the corner to the final hall, panic seized him again and he hit the brakes for an abrupt halt.

"This is a mistake – I shouldn't be here. I can't be what you need. I have a life on Earth-"

Ztar whirled upon Warren and captured his mouth in a kiss that nearly devoured him. Hunger, lust, desperation, love – they were all there in each thrust of tongue, crushing press of lips, intake of breathe. Rightness sunk into him as Ztar's hands pressed into Warren's sides, moved to his back, fingers finally reaching their destination. As thumbs found and massaged those super-erogenous spots, Warren's cried out his ecstasy into Ztar's mouth, and the man drank it in.

Unexpectedly, Ztar pulled away from Warren. "You think too much," the man accused. "Right now, I want to make love to you…for hours…leisurely. By the gods, these past weeks – I thought I would go insane!"

Warren shook his head and pushed Ztar further back. First things first. "No, we need to talk…_I_ need to talk."

"You came back – what is there to talk about?"

"There is more than just you and me to consider, Ztar." Warren let that hang. The Emperor did not know what Warren suspected about Jharda; at least he shouldn't. But her and Ztar's relationship was the big unknown – the one thing Warren would not jeopardize. He needed to hear from Jharda herself that she would be fully accepting of the Emperor having a companion. Historically, that was common, but if tradition caused Ztar to lose Jharda…unacceptable. No matter what the personal price, he'd return to Earth if Jharda was against the arrangement. Period.

Brown eyes widened in understanding. "You know."

"I know."

"How long?"

"I suspected after your second visit during her post-hospital recovery." Ztar's shoulders slumped. "Let's go to your room." Taking Ztar's powerful hand into his, Warren led the Emperor to his chambers and settled him in the lounge area. After pouring two full glasses of Dison, Warren sat across from Ztar.

"Here," he offered holding out the glass, "you look like you need it as much as me." Warren noted his hand was steadier than a few minutes ago. 'Good, you need to be steady, War ol' boy.'

"I thought I'd hid that so well," he admitted, the look of guilt deepening. "I'm sorry for lying to you. Is _that_ why you left?"

Warren shook his head. "No, Ztar. Not at all – don't believe that for an instant. I was happy when I thought you had found someone who could love you as you deserve. Jharda seems right for you, considering you loved her once before. I am pleased my suspicions were correct."

Ztar sighed and eased back into his chair, taking a deep draw of the sweet, fiery liqueur. "She is right for me and I do love her, but that doesn't change my love for you."

"I know it doesn't, Ztar." He focused on the amber liquid in his glass.

Ztar tilted his head and locked those deep brown eyes on Warren. "Why did you return? What do you want, my Archangel?" It felt as if the man was peering all the way to Warren's soul. He felt hints of telepathic contact and definitely empathic overtones. Ztar was all ears and eyes and psychic awareness. 'One big sensing machine,' Warren mused.

"What do I want?" It wasn't the question that shook Warren's core; it was the lurking answer he fought to deny. He continued to stare at his hands grasping the glass of liquor in a death grip. "I want to know why I leaving you feels like part of my soul is being ripped out. I want to know what is binding us together."

A long silence lingered between them before the Turzent spoke. "Why question what's between us? Why not just accept we are meant to be together?"

"Because loving a male not my natural inclination, Ztar – you know that as well as I do. There's something going on between you and me that's overriding my sexual orientation…something that caused me to go through hell the past five weeks. Part of me wants to be with you, and reasoning and arguments against why that should be are apparently meaningless. Whatever is pulling us together is stronger than I can fight right now." He grimaced and then laughed at the irony of the whole situation. "You look like shit," he pointed out with a wave of his glass toward the Turzent, "and I'm not fairing any better. We're like two drug addicts, Ztar! What the hell is between us? I want to know."

Ztar shook his head. "Love, my Archangel. A very powerful love."

Warren stood; frazzled nerves needed an outlet. "No, it's something different. What kind of love puts you through physical withdrawal for weeks? That's what it _was_, Ztar. Withdrawal, or at least that's the best term I have for it. Physically, I'm a mess, but that isn't the worst part." He paced and Ztar watched. "I've lost lovers before, women I thought I'd spend the rest of my life with. One was even killed just to hurt me. I was devastated, yes. I mourned and was an emotional wreck, but nothing like what I've experienced since leaving you."

"Withdrawals pass, Archangel. Why come back? Why not just let it run its course?"

Warren worked his way to the balcony door and looked out over the gardens he knew so well. Moit'de's handiwork was particularly beautiful this time of year. No, that didn't do the master gardener justice. Moit'de's gardens were beautiful year-round. "Because I wasn't sure it would pass." Confusion driven anger flared suddenly. "I don't _know_!" he shouted whirling back to face the man causing all the inner turmoil. "Dammit, Ztar! I don't the fuck know what's happening and it's driving me crazy." He took a large swig of Dison. Pacing began again, wings spreading slightly with rising agitation. And once more large, dark-chocolate eyes captured every movement. "I should leave. This was a mistake," he announced in ire over emotions that refused to be contained.

"You keep saying that, Archangel, but feelings radiating from you say otherwise. You want to be here, you just aren't allowing yourself to accept it."

"If I accept that, then I'm admitting I'm out of control!" he snapped, the wings spread further as he continued pacing.

"Are you sure that's all you would be admitting? Perhaps you do love me – in the way you've always said you do not."

Warren ran his fingers through his hair. "I freely admit to loving the sex. But am I _in_ love with you?" He struggled to put into terms the feelings he had toward Ztar. "Actually, I don't know if a word exists either in Turzent or English that completely describes how I feel about you."

"Does a word matter?"

Warren halted his walking. "It helps to have a name for something."

Ztar considered for several seconds as he set his glass down and rose. "Then let's call it our bond. Our souls are connected. That's how I feel about it."

"Like we are somehow bonded on a deep level?"

"Yes. Like we're bound at the _soul_ level." The Turzent eased toward Warren.

"Soul bound." Warren nodded. "That feels right. Everything else is fallout from that. Remember when we had sex right after the Mon Genesis bombing? In hindsight, that was when I really started to feel bonded to you. I think we did something that night."

Ztar smiled warmly at the memories. "What we did was beautiful – I never felt so utterly connected to and…" Ztar paused, obviously searching for the right word, "_immersed_ in someone as I was with you that night…not even with Jharda, despite the depth of my love for her." Longing and love softened Ztar's already gentle eyes as he gazed at Warren.

"You do love her then?"

Ztar closed the last of the gap between them. "I have since the day I first met her. After I nearly lost Jharda, I realized I had buried and forgotten those feelings, but my heart remembered and waited for when the time was right for us. Yes, I love Jharda. Differently than I love you." Ztar's hand reached out and gently brushed Warren's cheek. "I have love enough for both of you, my Archangel."

Warren believed Ztar. Love enough for both. That wasn't the problem. "I want to stay a while longer to see if we can figure this out, but only if Jharda's completely, 100 percent okay with it. If she says the hell with companion traditions…if she wants you all to herself, then that's that. You two belong together – she's your future, Ztar, not me."

Ztar raised an eyebrow. "She will accept you."

"I need her to say that."

"Then I will comm her and discuss the matter."

"That is fine for step one, Ztar. Step Two, I want to hear it from Jharda in person." Warren wanted to see the agreement in her eyes and her blessing in the body language. "This is too important for misunderstandings or half-hearted acceptance. She needs to tell me she's okay with it. I need her to understand I know my role and won't overstep my bounds. She is your mate, your future empress – I'm on the sideline. And this isn't permanent, Ztar. I'll be here only until I can get a handle on whatever it is…this soulbound business, then I'm heading back. I have a life waiting for me on Earth."

Ztar looked immediately deflated. "But if Jharda's okay with you being my companion, why can't it be permanent?"

"It is only five days between Sat'rey and Earth. If we need a fix, we can get together." Warren smirked. "I can't just lay around here the rest of my life waiting for you to plunk down in my bed!"

"But five days?" Ztar almost sounded whiny.

Warren laughed. "Take it or leave it, lover boy. You want a roll in the hay with me, you gotta work a little!"

Lusty hunger began radiating from the Turzent with the move to playfulness. "Perhaps I should move the Imperial Palace to Earth. Or, better yet, build a summer palace there…in those mountains you love so much. Sat'rey's dry season can be a bit oppressive." The man looked very pleased with himself over that idea, as he reached out and pulled Warren in to his large, muscular chest. Warren did not resist – it felt too good. "Yes, that is the best plan. A summer palace on Earth."

Warren was trembling, head to wing tip. Ztar pressed against him, subtly showing Warren he was aroused, likely hoping to spread the condition. 'Oh, to give in, to just let him have what he wants. Correction, what I want. Accept ownership of your own lust, Worthington.'

He rested his forehead against the chest, feeling the thumping heart within. Ztar's arms squeezed him tightly and deep, need-filled longing twisted his insides almost painfully.

"I feel your wanting, my Archangel," the voice was heavy with lust. "Let me make love to you…powerfully…deeply." Warren's body jumped to attention and he shuddered. "Let me make you burn with desire." Hands slid over his ribs and up to where feather met back. Wings spread automatically, invitingly. Warren groaned. "Let's send each other into rapture, my Archangel." Fingers became tools of exquisite seduction as they massaged and worked those perfect points at the wing bases. His knees gave out, but Ztar held him up. "I…want…you, my Archangel," Ztar panted.

Warren wrapped arms and wings around the singular man that could take him to a height of ecstasy that was superhuman. He buried his face into the muscular chest. The simple feel of Ztar's powerful body against his alone was bliss. The unendurable drought was about to be broken. He wanted Ztar with frightening intensity. Looking up into the dark eyes, fierce desire burned in those orbs like twin suns and it warmed Warren to the depths of his being. Ztar's love flowed over him with almost physical force. The telepath was projecting. Warren's soul drank in the sensation as would one dying of thirst, surrendering to the rolling, seductive waves.

Warren opened his mouth and Ztar did not hesitate to accept the invitation. He ravaged the moist interior with his velvet tongue, sucking the air out of Warren's lungs. A dizzying rush swirled thought away leaving only carnal need. The powerful Turzent lifted Warren bodily and took them to the bed. Sinking into the familiar softness, the pair refused to let their mouths part for even a moment as clothing was shed hurriedly; any items that protested were literally ripped from the body to fall in a heap on the floor.

The two bodies stilled as Ztar gently rested his forehead and body on Warren's. Skin to skin, warmth against warmth, soul touching soul – they sighed in unison. "This is where you belong, my most treasured Archangel," the man breathed into Warren's mouth, just before recapturing it in a kiss that stole breath away for a second time.

As Ztar's hands trailed the course of muscle and bone of Warren's lithe form, he trembled uncontrollably. 'Oh, god – missed this. Need this!' was the last bit of lucid thinking Warren's brain could muster. Rapture became tangible as Ztar suckled neck, ear lobe, nipples. One hand roamed lower and began doing amazing things to his growing shaft. Moans punctuated shudders of bliss. No one would ever match the pleasures Ztar could elicit so quickly. Like the irresistible force of a black hole, the rampant desire Ztar conjured pulled Warren into its grasp.

Ztar was an incredibly generous lover; his bedmate's pleasure always came first. Empathic talents let Ztar sense what was bringing the most delight at any moment and he used that ability to its fullest advantage. Warren could never hope to match Ztar's skill, but he would try.

Warren ran his hands desperately over the body he'd longed to hold for five interminable weeks, not knowing where or what to touch first. He wanted to feel every inch of Ztar at once. He wanted to give back just a bit of the wondrous delight he was receiving. Knowing Ztar took special delight in one special feature Warren his anatomy, he spread wings wide across the bed, to which Ztar immediately responded. Probing fingers slid down into feathery depths to the hypersensitive membrane beneath, Ztar moaned his appreciation of the gesture. "By the gods, I love you," the lust-laden words sunk deep into Warren, and another kind of warmth spread through him.

In return, Warren's gasps of delight rewarded the Turzent's attentions. Warren clamped hands tightly around Ztar's arms to anchor himself against the maelstrom of sensation those attentions wrought. Liquid fire ran from wing to groin, and he cried out as senses spun wildly from the delicious stimulation. Ztar drew fingers down through the wings a second time and Warren's back arched reflexively as his body shuddered with ecstasy.

Breathing came rapid and in gulps. His heart beat its excitement. The searing fire in his groin was nearing the unbearable. Warren was desperate to be taken, but Ztar paid no heed to his wanton need. Torturously, up and down his body, Ztar worked magic and all Warren could do was hang on. There was no more thought, no world beyond the bed…the universe consisted only of the Turzent and the rapture drowning him.

Then unexpectedly, Ztar's explorations became less urgent, slower, and even more sensual. A tongue in his ear, sweet kisses across the throat, reverent strokes down the wings. Hands slid beneath Warren's buttocks to squeeze and press their groins even more tightly together, erections pulsating against each other. Warren gasped and dug his fingers into Ztar's black crimson hair to smother the mouth in a savage kiss. The man pulled away from Warren's plundering to plant a kiss on each cheekbone, nose, and forehead.

"My beautiful Archangel, I want this to last…don't rush," the Emperor's voice was thick with desire, but also with determination. Warren knew better than to argue no matter how much he wanted to move things along.

Ztar continued to explore Warren's body tenderly with dancing fingertips and tongue and hands – hard squeezes in all the right places; barest tracings in all the other spots, goose bumps and shivers spreading over Warren. It felt like his skin had become as hypersensitive as the wing membrane as electric jolts of pleasure were left in the wake of Ztar's incredibly skilled touch. Amazingly, the urgent fire in Warren's groin had died down to a controlled burn, yet never losing its potential for flashover.

Gathering Warren's trembling hand into his, Ztar suckled then kissed each digit, ending with a tongue swirl to the palm and a tracing of the contours toward Warren's wrist, sending zings of pleasure racing up the arm. Warren marveled that such a simple gesture could be so erotic. Kissing his way up to the inner elbow, the man nipped there gently before continuing up the arm. Ztar's tongue then traced his collarbone to the neck where teeth sunk into soft flesh, causing Warren to hiss from pain/pleasure.

Then like an orchestral conductor, Ztar once again began building their lust toward crescendo. The talented mouth moved to the wing, lips brushing across the arch creating tremors in the feathered appendage. Ztar's hot breath on the delicate white structures nearly brought Warren to orgasm and he gripped the man's broad shoulders, digging nails into the olive-brown flesh. Skilled fingers slipped up and down the splayed wing just to the point of the sensory bombardment becoming painful. Warren was panting when Ztar repositioned himself to give equal favor to the left wing.

It was almost more pleasure than Warren could bear. His body had become so sensitize he could feel every tiny hair on Ztar's body as the man moved against him. One hand once again grasped Warren's throbbing shaft and he cried out at the touch, believing he'd cum instantly, but his body was determined to wait. "P-please, Ztar…I need you _now!_" he pleaded in a raspy voice.

Shifting to the right position, Ztar beamed down at Warren. "As you command, my beloved." The man grinned salaciously as he took Warren's mouth in a wilting kiss. As Ztar slid slowly within Warren's depths and filled him completely, breath hitched in his throat. The feeling of connection and completion was indescribable as Ztar started moving inside him. A hand then encircled Warren's erection, gliding up and down its length, bringing Warren along with the Turzent's ride toward sexual peak.

Ztar penetrated Warren with slow, leisurely thrusts drawn out with exquisite deliberateness, but as the carnal fires were fanned, Warren needed more. Just before he believed he'd have to ask, the Turzent began more forceful entries, hitting that perfect point within Warren time and again. He shuddered and cried out under the powerful Turzent and it was blissful delirium.

Stealing a look into Ztar's eyes, he watched as their warmth became raging flames as the man slammed into him with increasing abandon. Warren closed his eyes and allowed his lover to have him fully as his body spiraled closer to climax with each savage thrust.

Then with timing honed through years of shared intimacy, Warren reached down for the passionate energy just as he felt both himself and Ztar reach the pinnacle. With the intensity of a fiery flashover, the passionate energy joined with blinding climax to consume them in a firestorm of rapture as Ztar expelled his seed within Warren and Warren did likewise upon Ztar. United cries of ecstasy echoed through their chambers. Ztar collapsed gently in exhaustion, his head coming to rest on Warren's heaving chest.

The world whirled around him in the aftermath. Unexpected tears formed in Warren's eyes as he drew his arms around the man who had just blessed him with one of the most incredible experiences of his life. He blinked, confused at what appeared to be a golden haze surrounding them. Then he smiled with satisfaction – it was the afterglow of the energy he manifested – the golden aura Ztar had seen before. Now Warren had seen it as well. Within seconds, the soft light faded. Warren closed his eyes and they rested quietly, no words needed. He felt so complete, so totally content nestled beneath the warmth of Ztar. He could stay that way forever.

'This is where you belong,' an inner voice whispered in his mind. Then like swollen floodwaters straining against a dam, Warren's long repressed emotions burst through the barrier. That one feeling he'd pushed down, denied, tried to hide from Ztar came in a gushing torrent. The dam break was nearly physical in its intensity, sweeping away all his arguments and protests. He shuddered from the impact. Ztar moaned above him as their empathic connection transmitted the emotional tsunami.

Ztar pressed against Warren's embrace to rise up on elbows with a questioning look. "My Archangel?"

/ _I love you!_ / his soul projected to the telepath of its own accord. There was no taking it back. His eyes shot up to Ztar's; both blue and brown orbs wide in shock Yet the words felt right on every level, and enormous relief filled Warren at finally having put voice to what he had denied for too long.

Ztar's brown eyes grew even larger as the words took hold. "_That_ way?"

Warren could only nod. A smile crept across the handsome face above him that blended amazement with victory. "You love me _that_ way."

Warren sighed. "Yes, but I still want to know why."

Smile became smirk and the deep brown eyes sparkled. "Because I'm so lovable?"

Warren had to laugh. "I must admit, you have certain charms," he teased playfully, brushing back the black hair that had fallen across Ztar's face.

"Then, my Archangel, nothing else matters. You have proven _anything_ is possible! You have made me happier than even the Gods of Sat'rey can imagine. I have yours _and_ Jharda's love – I am blessed beyond all others. We will find a way to make this love of ours work, I vow to you."

Ztar ran his fingers through the golden locks slowly, his eyes roaming every inch of Warren's face. He sighed as peace and contentment settled into every corner of his soul. He loved Ztar. Ztar loved him. In that moment, heaven descended to Sat'rey. He put a twinkle in his eyes and a grin on his face, a feistiness rising up as joy filled his essence. "Make love to me again, mighty Emperor. It's been a damn long month!"

With a hearty laugh, Ztar eased back down upon the beautiful being beneath him, took the waiting mouth into a wildly passionate kiss, and they made deliriously sensual love once more.

### Finis ###

_There you have it! While I still believe the original Circle Complete ending was the right one for the characters, I very much enjoyed writing a version where Ztar and Warren remain together. I still love their pairing, if I must say so myself._

_Sleepy Eyes25, I hope this was all you hoped it would be._

_Readers, reviews are what nurture a writer's soul. Drop me a review and share how you feel about this ending…I'm very curious as to your reactions. _

_Until next time, be well and I wish you all many hours of happy reading!_

_Echo Dancer_


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